Things I Never Thought I’d Write

So this Advanced Creative Writing course I’m on. It has made me try Something New (how very dare it!). Play-scripts! Aargh.
Not just scripts in general, oh no. That would be too easy, and after all, as we hapless students are often reminded, it is an Advanced Course. So, after some generalised work on the concept of script rather than story, we’ve had to learn the subtle differences between writing for radio, stage and screen.

Of course, I’ve written play-scripts before. With 8-10 year-olds. Who have learning difficulties.
Worryingly, I get the impression my tutor is looking for something rather more sophisticated.

My current assignment requires me to adapt the short story I wrote for my first assignment, into a play. Gulp. It’s been trickier than I expected. Just as scary is the prospect of, once again, writing a commentary on why and how I wrote what I…er…wrote. And rewrote.

But that isn’t The Thing I Never Thought I’d Write. Oh no. That thing occurred in the process. It’s a scrawled note to myself from this morning, and I’m left wondering what people will think if I ever, heh heh, become famous, and my notebooks are studied for posterity.

Because just before I dashed off to work, I wrote:

DO WE NEED STEVE??
could back-refer + swallow into Dan

Perhaps I should put that in my commentary. <Interesting how I always use the royal ‘we’ when I scrawl these notes. Perhaps it’s a subliminal desire for a co-author.>

(BTW – I rewrote the scene and Steve in now gone. Poor Steve. He is now only referred to, and has indeed been swallowed ‘into’ Dan. Which sounds dodgier every time I write it).

The London MCM Expo

So here’s a post that’s sat in my drafts for nearly a month, waiting for me to fiddle with photos etc.
But there was too much for one post anyway, so here is the first instalment of my witterings about the London MCM Expo (MCM = Movie Comic Media).

Those of you who used to grace my Writeous Indignation blog may recall I went to the May Expo, and missed seeing the cast of Stargate Universe due to a late train and no timetable for the shows (gnashes teeth at memory). Techie Husband and I go for the sci-fi and movies, Arty Daughter goes there for the – er, art. And Constructo Boy goes along for anything related to Dr.Who and Star Wars.

Arty Daughter brought along her best friend this time (we’ll call her K the Cat – you’ll see why in a mo), because she has infected her with the Manga Madness too. Poor girl. They had a fantastic time and dressed up, because this is The Thing To Do. K was…a cat, kind of, and Arty Daughter went along dressed as Misa from Deathnote.

For comparison, I give you: Misa

Below: Arty Daughter and K the Cat – a but fuzzy I’m afraid (blame TH, he took the photo!), and Arty Daughter isn’t smiling – not because she is going for the moody look, but because this is just before we left, and her black lipstick had wandered on to her teeth by that time…

Arty Daughter (right) and K the Cat.
Arty Daughter (right) as Misa, and K the Cat.
And yes, K the Cat did have a tail, which attracted strange looks at Stevenage train station 🙂
This time we made sure we were there early, so TH and I caught the interviews we wanted to. Haven, Eureka, Warehouse 13…more on them soon.

In Which I Am An Ungrateful Whinger

I’ve not blogged for ages. This is naughty. Life has been busy. And talking of things not done –

I’ve not really been into the competition-entering Thang this past year.  2010, as some of you  know, was very busy and stressful.

I did try. I abandoned a few stories that ran out of time (one soooo near to completion that I’ll send it elsewhere, soon). But then, almost on a whim, I entered a poetry competition.  Again. Even though I am Not A Poet – as I have explained to my OU tutor, the witty and wonderful Caron Freeborn. (Particularly wonderful today as she has granted me an extension for my assignment – backache has me doing the Womble Walk if I sit for more than a few minutes).

Wombles

The competition? Writers’ News, August. The brief? The theme: Generation Gap.

So I played for a bit with words, which is how I approach poetry. (To be honest, approach is too strong a word. I go for what sounds good. It’s about as technical as spreading jam.)

And lo and behold, today February’s WN catapaults through my door (yes, catapaults – my postie is very enthuisiastic – hello Phil), and I flick through the pages to discover that…
once again…
I have been shortlisted.

Now I know what you’re thinking. I should be doing the Happy Dance.
Can’t. Bad Back, you know.
But seriously, I am partly doing the Happy Dance, yet there’s a little part of me that’s whispering…

shortlisted Again…I should be delighted…but wouldn’t it be nice to, ahem…win?
Or even be runner-up?
Wouldn’t one win be more heartening, more impressive to editors, agents & the literati in general, than four shortlistings?

So tell me – d’you see my point, or am I just an ungrateful whinger?

Oh – and just to make up for no posts for ages, straight after I post this one, I shall dip into my drafts and drag out one that needs to see the light of day.
Need to stand up. Maximum sit-down exceeded. Womble walk, here we come.

Morris Dancers & Free School Meals

Well if you were searching the horizon, hoping to see steam from the boiling cauldron of creativity rise above the roof of the Runham household, then I’m afraid you were disappointed – unless it arose from the manga drawings Arty Daughter continues to plaster the house with, or Constructo Boy’s attempts to be comical when he wrote his spelling sentences homework this week. How he delights in taking the words and turning them into sentences that convince his teachers (whom I have to work with, mind!) that I’m bonkers and our family life is positively freakish… so much damage done in so few words.

In between helping ArtyD prepare for her English GCSE assessment and being madly busy with work (of the Proper Job variety), all the ‘free time’ (ha ha) that I’d earmarked for writing dissolved. I did get some of my coursework for A363 done at the weekend, but that’s about it. I’m hoping the next few days will be better, and holding out for Thursday – we adore Thee, Thursday, for Thou Art the Day without any Proper Jobs. At least the pesky tax return has Left The Building. Phew.

Meanwhile I’ve been gathering data on area stats for free school meal eligibility for a friend, and pondering how to put disappearing Morris Dancers (found here on Julie P’s blog!) and an exploding bass trombone (from a Darwin awards article I read!) into a story. Not necessarily together, you understand – there’s a limit to how much hilarity a reader can take… 😉

I’ve tried to sub to a couple of blogspot blogs today (including Julie P’s Article Antics), but found the ‘ol ‘IE cannot display…’ error. This is making me feel a trifle miffed and Needs Further Investigation.

Right. I must abandon the laptops, chase Constructo Boy to bed, and go back to making Arty D’s costume for the London MCM Expo (of which, more later!).

New week, same – er…stuff ;-)

What with the weather deciding to skip autumn and go directly to winter without passing go, it’s been a cold and soggy few days in Cambridgeshire (and in Kent, where I was to be found at the weekend). Not very inspiring…sigh.

I’ve had a stack of work to do for Proper Job A (I never have to do any ‘homework’ for Proper Job B – it’s not that kind of gig, LOL). And this week is just as busy as last week – or perhaps a bit worse!

Never mind. I may have missed the deadline for 50 Stories For Pakistan because I wasn’t paying attention (grr), nearly disowned Google (because, despite doing some things very well, their Google Sites set-up is RUBBISH and I am condemned to use it for 2 miserable years) , and lost three pieces of paperwork that I need for work…
But! on the plus side I have:

  • done more work on the Proper Job website (eventually! See Above!!)
  • attended my daughter’s presentation ceremony – she won awards for Ancient History and Science, and was recognised for her achievement in getting her GCSE Media Studies 2 years early (after doing a two year course in one year) and for scoring highly overall in the core subjects. We were a very proud Mum and Dad 🙂
  • sent two poems out for scrutiny (oh please be kind judges/editors!). One is called Colleagues and was submitted for the Writers’ News ‘Generation Gap’ theme competition. The other, Dining Room, has been submitted to Prima  because I thought it was right up their street; a poem about family and what brings us together. I wrote the original for the first part of my Diploma, but it underwent a fairly drastic rewrite before I sent it off.

Fingers crossed. Anyone know if and when Prima let you know if your poetry has been accepted? Is it like the Wise Words column – you only find out when you get the cheque and/or see your work in the magazine, LOL?

I’ve also just requested a writers’ pack from Take A Break, because I’m keen to submit to TAB and Fiction Feast – I may also have a go at The Weekly News, too.

Off to the dental hygienist after work tomorrow. What a thrill…

Just Another Manic Monday

When the Bangles have already summarised my day so well, why would I spend time looking for a better phrase?!
The manic element was introduced by a lack of sleep (weekend cold caused the Dreaded Tickly Cough that Only Comes in the Night), a lack of remembering to set the alrm clock (although I remembered to change the time! Credit where it’s due, please!), and an attempt to work at both my Proper Jobs whilst fitting a doctor’s appointment for Arty Daughter in the middle.

Until 2 p.m, all I had eaten today was a small banana, a Milky Way and one of those miniscule Go Ahead strawberry cereal bars.

Meanwhile I have:

  • slapped a book reviews page up and swiped a review from my old blog
  • read the rest of the Prima issue I was published in and decided to submit a poem for their poetry column – it’s one I wrote for a previous OU course
  • searched my inbox in vain for a reply to an email I sent to an editor eleven days ago
  • spent a lot of time doing paperwork etc for one of my Proper Jobs
  • been gifted with the permanent smell of swimming pools up my nose (I’m guessing this is a sympton of whatever lurgy’s given me the cold, rather than a sign that a parallel-universe-me is a lifeguard).

The rest of the week is already looking much the same, because there’s a lot going on. My brain is fried by over-activity, germs and high-frequency sneezing attacks of great velocity.

I am going to lay down in a darkened room.